Chapter 6A: Try that again

A/N: thanks to Jim for editing!

I held the phone away from my ear, just enough to hawk up enough mucus to cough with, and then did so. "Sorry, Caleb, I can't," I said into the receiver. "I think it's that flu I came down with a few weeks ago. Who knows if it's contagious."

"Shit, dude," Caleb responded, sounding troubled. "You need me to bring you anything?"

"Nah, I'm okay," I insisted. "I think I just need a nap or something"

"Okay," Caleb replied, sounding uncertain, and I felt a moment of guilt for what I was doing.

"Call Joe," I suggested. "He'll go with you."

"Nah, he's doing his community service thing."

"Then call Haily."

"Yeah, I was gonna, anyway. Look, call if you feel better, alright?"

"I will," I assured him, and after another forced cough I hung up the cordless phone and dropped it carelessly on the mattress as I sat up on my bed. I felt guilty. I wasn't used to blowing Caleb off. Actually, I never blew Caleb off. It felt terrible, but necessary.

It was just past noon on Monday--morning for Caleb, who'd called to ask if I wanted to go to the park for a while, and maybe find something otherwise more entertaining to do. His sister was due to give birth any day now, and driving him crazy. Her husband was finally with her, but it seemed that Julie preferred to lean on her parents and Caleb. He'd hardly woken up and already she was ordering him to help her to figure out how to put together a breast pump. As Caleb explained it, he was a large fan of anything and all things breast, but the mention of anything to do with his sister's and he was out the door. He didn't even want to go home until Julie had the baby at this point. Any other day, I probably would have offered Caleb safe harbor and free meal tickets to boot; and in all honestly, I probably would later.

After Milo came over.

Because Milo was going to come over. We had no plans set in stone, and there was a possibility that he wasn't going to show up. But I was confident. He wanted to talk to me. He didn't have to say that for me to know it. Any resentment I might have had towards him due to our previous encounter was gone. Almost gone. Frankly speaking, he'd hurt my feelings, as stupid as that sounded to me. But I had that hope back again, and for now, I could forget about feeling bad. I was way more interested in what Milo had to say to me. And he'd better have something to say to me, because if he was really just coming over here for a stupid notebook I'd have to beat him over his stubborn head with it before I ever let him leave.

I pushed myself off my bed and straightened my blue-and-white button-up shirt. It was the one my mom liked me to wear on Sundays, and Leanna always said it looked nice on me. I'd been thinking of Milo when I got dressed that morning, but I'd likely deny any and all claims that I was dressing up for him. Same went for cleaning my room. I'd vacuumed, made my bed. I'd even dusted a little bit. What I didn't do, however, was try to hide anything. My sketch books were in their shelves, right where they always were, some with sketches of Milo right on top. I didn't have any of him on my walls, but I did have some comic drawing of my friends tacked up; and of course, the scarecrow painting was still there.

I pushed off my bed and headed up the stairs. The rat was out again. I put it away and refilled the parrot's water, when he kept dumping his bowl, because, as my mom put it, he was in a mood. Walking through the house, the closer I got to the kitchen, the more it smelled like tacos. My parents had left yesterday afternoon for an overnight date, location unknown. They did that every once in a while on a long weekend, leaving one phone number for emergencies but not much else. They'd be back later tonight. I'd heard Chad and Leanna come in about forty minutes before, shouting through the house that they were there to baby-sit me. I'd been busy cleaning my room so I opted to ignore it. But now, I was interested because they had food. I was somewhat hopeless when it came to cooking for myself. The only time I ever did it was in the bakeries, and that was hardly like cooking over a skillet, which my brother was doing now, browning a pound of ground beef over the stove. Chad's hair was as pink as ever and piled in a pony tail on top of his head. Leanna was facing him across the round counter as she carefully diced an assortment of peppers near a food processor. Tacos and salsa. I decided right then that both of them could stay.

"Hey!" Leanna objected when I reached around her, and popped an entire jalapeno into my mouth, making a face as the heat caught up to me. She laughed and tugged on one of my pierced ears. "You're turning red," she observed. "Go get something to drink."

"I'll take a soda," Chad said, glancing up from the meat he was browning as I headed towards the refrigerator. I just nodded, sucking in a breath against the pepper burning my mouth as I rolled back my watery eyes. "We didn't know if you were home."

"I was busy," I replied. "What are you guys doing here?"

"I have nothing to cook with in my kitchen," Chad said, as if this were some mystery he'd just figured out.

"I think my roommate's having sex in mine," Leanna commented.

I snickered. "That's kinda gross." I'd never actually met Leanna's roommate, but I'd heard Leanna complain on occasion that the girl was always bringing home various guys, and more often than not, Leanna had no idea what she was going to walk in on. I always figured that Leanna and Chad would be moving in together sooner or later, if only Chad wasn't so attached to his own roommate, Greg Hugh. "Are you guys gonna be here long?" I asked.

"For a while," Chad replied, and then looked up to raise a blond eyebrow at me. "Why, are we cramping your style already?"

"No," I replied as I brought three sodas back to the counter and hastily downed one. "I'm just curious." I lifted a block of cheese and the grater, and decided to put myself to work next to my brother's girlfriend. "Hey Leanna, can I ask you something?"

"Uh-huh," she replied, throwing a sideways glance in my direction.

"Okay, if there was a guy you liked..."

Chad cleared his throat. "Excuse me?"

"It's hypothetical," I assured him, and Leanna smiled as I turned my attention back to her. "If there was a guy you liked, but he wasn't really into you; I mean, he liked being your friend, but he didn't have the same feelings that you had..."

"Why wouldn't he be into her?" Chad asked, looking offended on behalf of his girlfriend.

Leanna shushed my brother. "It's hypothetical," she reminded him, seeming amused.

"Well, how would you want him to tell you?" I asked. "That he's not interested, I mean."

"Is this about Haily?" Leanna asked. She could be a perceptive little thing behind those thick glasses.

"She wants me to take her to homecoming."

"So take her," Chad said, shrugging. "What's wrong with going as friends?"

"It wouldn't be leading her on?" I asked.

"Not if you make sure she knows you're going as friends," Leanna said. "If you tell her you're not interested she's going to want to know why, Nelson. I know I would. Plus, it's Haily. When you tell her, you're going to owe her an honest explanation, don't you think?"

"Oh," I replied, feeling somewhat put out. I understood what Leanna meant by honest explanation. I just wasn't sure that giving one of those to Haily was possible. My brother and Leanna disagreed, though, as they flashed me pointed looks and smiled at each other. I frowned. But, whatever annoyance I was experiencing was short-lived when the doorbell echoed through the house. I dropped the cheese grater. "I've got that!" I announced, and before they could say anything, I was moving through the house, eager to get to the front door.

Maybe I was eager, but I wasn't prepared. I think I'd fully expected to experience one of those disappointing moments that occur when someone expects to see someone particular on the other side of a door, but ends up facing someone completely irrelevant instead--like a troop of girl scouts or a Playboy bunny who somehow managed to lock her keys in her car, right there in suburbia. It didn't happen, though.

Milo had his hands tucked away in his jeans pockets. It was still cold, but he'd left his red coat at home, and now he was facing me in a v-neck black sweater. I didn't care for v-necks, but I immediately decided that I liked them on him. And black. I'd noticed that the darker the colors were that he wore, the more his eyes stuck out. His hair seemed shorter today, but that was probably because there were more waves in it, due to the humidity in the air. But his stubbornness, it seemed, had not quite evaporated yet as he regarded me expectantly.

"I can't stay long," was the first thing he said to me. "Do you have that notebook?"

Whatever kind of smile that had worked its way over my face fell, and I stared at him for a full moment as I wondered if he was trying to earn himself a gold metal for jackassism. If he had any interest in having a civil conversation with me whatsoever, he was simply going to have to drop the attitude. I considered myself a patient person, but hell if I was going to be his doormat. It was my frustration with him that had me slowly closing the door in his face, and once it was between us, I turned around to lean back on it, waiting. I suppose there was a possibility that I'd hear his car, leaving, in a few moments. But, I was still confident. I just hoped that I could get Milo housebroken before I invited him in. At least he could take a hint, because the next thing I knew he was bypassing the doorbell, knocking softly.

When I opened the door this time, it was just enough to look out at him, waiting to see what he had to say for himself. He had the nerve to still look annoyed.

"I said I couldn't stay long," he said. "I didn't say not at all." I watched his expression soften, and he looked somewhat sheepish as he avoided my eyes. "Can I come in?"

I raised an eyebrow, opening the door a little more.

"Why do you do that?" I asked curiously.

Milo shrugged, subtly shaking the hair from his face. "I'm not really comfortable around you," he admitted.

That wasn't a response that I was expecting, but the honesty behind it did get my attention, and I opened the door and stepped back as I waved him into the house, where he stopped, and took a nervous look around.

"This is where you live?"

"This is where I live," I replied, cracking a small smile. He moved aside so I could close the door, and then I nodded for him to follow as I turned to move into the house. But, he didn't, and I paused to look back at him, still standing there in the doorway. "Do I need to carry you?" I remarked, and Milo raised an eyebrow at me.

"I really can't stay that long," he reiterated, and then finally stepped away from the door.

"No problem," I replied. "We don't usually take our guests hostage and refuse to let them leave until the third visit, at least."

Milo didn't bother to respond to my joke as he caught up to me. I guess he really was uncomfortable. He certainly looked it as his eyes wandered, seemingly taking in everything in my house as we moved through it. I wanted to tell him to relax, but then decided to hope that he'd do that on his own. It didn't quite happen when we reached the kitchen, though. He paused, his eyes drifting to the large windows facing the field. Most people looked there first. It didn't surprise me that Milo did, too. But, when his gaze focused on what was in front of the windows he took a step back, seeming startled when he saw that we weren't alone with Chad and Leanna there, now putting together tacos.

"Milo," I said, loud enough to get my brother's and his girlfriend's attention. "That's my brother, Chad, and that's Leanna."

"Milo?" Chad repeated, regarding me curiously.

Leanna looked as startled as Milo did, but at least managed to smile. "Hi," she said.

Milo gave her a nod. "Nice to meet you."

"You didn't say you were having someone over," Chad said, looking at me suspiciously. He had a right to, I guess. The last he'd heard, I was worried about Milo Trust outing me. "Are you guys hungry?"

"Are you?" I asked, turning to Milo, who quickly shook his head.

"No thanks. I just wanted to get that... book." He looked nervous about saying that to me after I'd closed the front door in his face, but this time there was something behind his words that I could actually understand.

"Sure," I replied, and then faced Chad and Leanna again. "We'll be in my room."

"Okay," they both said, still giving Milo and me funny looks. I turned away from them with Milo, but couldn't help throwing a goofy smile over my shoulder, aimed towards my brother, who simply shook his head at me. But that was okay. He could ask all the questions he wanted to later. Right now, I was busy. With Milo. Who was in my house.

The first time I'd entered Milo's room it had been because of a misunderstanding, but I still remembered the moment everything hit me. Not just all of the paintings, but the fact that I was in Milo's room. For at least a brief moment, it had me feeling a little closer to him. I gathered that the reason was because a bedroom was a personal thing, and at the time, just standing in it had been the closest I'd managed to get to being personal with Milo. It was his room. He slept there. He dreamed there. He created beautiful images and kept things that were personal to him in that room. He most definitely kept his secrets there. It had been kinda thrilling, just to stand amongst all of that. The feeling that came with having Milo in my home was similar to that. Only here, I was comfortable, and in my element, and ready to discuss some of those secrets that Milo kept. It was only fair. After all, we'd already talked about my secrets. I was hoping that Milo was ready to tell me some of his, without me having to confront him. I was sort of in a hurry to get to my room because of that. But I lost him when we reached the family room and he noticed the animals. He went straight to the African Grey and knelt down in front of the large cage, placing himself at the bird's level, and I watched as the parrot climbed from his perch, and then over the bars to face Milo, where he made a loud belching sound directly in my guest's face. Milo laughed, and I found myself smiling as I moved up behind him.

"He only does that to people he likes," I told Milo.

"You talked to them about me," Milo replied, without turning around.

"Huh?"

"Your brother and... sister?"

"Leanna's Chad's girlfriend."

Milo was silent for a moment. "You talked to them about me," he said again.

"Yeah," I replied, completely unapologetic. Milo straightened, and looked over his shoulder at me, as if he expected me to say more. I smiled. "Come on."

I turned, and moved towards the stairs, stopping at the top to let him go ahead of me. He'd made it down one step before he took in the full effect of the creepy, narrow passage and froze, placing his hands on the wall as if he thought I'd push him.

"Where are we going?" he demanded.

I laughed. "My room."

"Your room's down there?" he asked incredulously. It seemed that he didn't approve.

"Just walk," I insisted, placing a hand on his shoulder only briefly enough to get him going again. We made it through my door, where he paused again, immediately met with his own art work. His eyes didn't dwell on the scarecrow for long, though, as he took in the rest of the room. Any shyness that Milo might have displayed upon entering my house abruptly disappeared, and I watched with entertained fascination as he very boldly moved into my room and looked around, taking in everything from the sketches I kept on my walls to where I kept my homework on my desk. He even paused to open the top desk drawer and look down at the loose pencils and markers I kept in there. I leaned against my doorframe, still watching when he made his way to my shelves where he lifted one sketch pad after another, flipping through them, pausing every so often, his back to me. He didn't have to be facing me for me to figure out that he'd stumbled upon various sketches of himself. When he flipped through one of my older books he finally looked over his shoulder to see where I was. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Are we even yet?" I asked.

He put the book back but not before removing a loose piece of paper from it. He turned around, shaking his head as he held up the comic-like picture I'd done of him long before I'd ever spoken to him, the one where he had a cape and slicked-back hair. And a bulge in his pants. "Not even close," he responded, but sounded more amused than anything.

"I did that one months ago," I said, moving further into the room. "Last year, when school got out, I..."

"You saw me when I was picking up Jame."

"You remember that?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

Milo shrugged, as if it was no big deal. "I remember faces." He turned to place the drawing back on the book, and when he took a seat in my standard black desk chair I seated myself on my bed, seemingly unable to keep my eyes off of him. "Do your friends know?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"What you told me," he replied. "Being... gay."

"Oh. No, they don't," I replied. "Just my family. And Leanna. And you."

"You told me but not your friends?" he asked skeptically, to which I shrugged.

"You're different."

"Meaning... ?"

"I think you know why," I said pointedly, and Milo's eyes dropped to the floor momentarily as he pursed his lips and studied his hands. When he looked up, it was determinedly.

"None of my friends know," he said quietly, and I leaned forward, interested enough to soak in every word that was coming out of his mouth. "I couldn't even think about telling my dad. He's all about image, he'd..." Milo stopped for a moment, swallowing. "You're not going to tell." It was more of a statement, than a question.

"No," I agreed, and then smiled at him. "I sort of thought you would tell Ass... eh, Jame, about me."

"Is that why you didn't come back to school that day?" he asked, meeting my eyes again.

"Part of the reason," I admitted.

"Oh." We fell silent for a moment while I continued to stare at Milo and he looked at anything but me. I think he felt awkward. I didn't. Not at all, in fact. Excited was a better word to describe it. I just didn't think he'd appreciate it if I jumped up and down and declared it, that's all. If it was even possible to feel better than I did, it happened when Milo kept talking. "I wouldn't have told Jame," he said, and I believed him. "When you didn't show up for school, I kinda felt like shit. I was going to try to talk to you then, in class. I mean, I wasn't going to tell you... actually, I wasn't going to tell you anything. I just wanted to apologize, for..."

"Overreacting?" I offered, when Milo came up with nothing. "Calling me a stalker... a sick fuck..."

"Okay," he snapped, sounding defensive. "You know, I didn't say that stuff because you said you were gay or anything. You just--you were creeping me out. But yeah, I was going to apologize. But then you didn't show up, and the next day you stopped talking to me."

"You told me to," I quietly pointed out. I was troubled again. It was an unsettling feeling to have when I was supposed to be excited, thrilled and perfectly happy. But I couldn't help it, not when some of the feelings that I'd had the day he blew me off were resurfacing. They seemed a lot harder to push down with Milo staring back at me. "I creep you out?" I asked.

Milo cocked his head at me. "No. It's not that you creep me out. You were creeping me out. I mean, all through community service you kept acting like we were friends or something. I didn't know what the fuck your deal was. I mean, dude, I sorta thought you might have hit your head too hard when I was beating the shit out of you that night."

This made me laugh. "You didn't beat the shit out of me. I was drunk, and I tripped."

"Whatever; when I beat the shit out of your drunk ass, then," he replied, as if to appease me. "And even when I tell you to back off you show up at my house, go in my room--and you freaked out Juanita!"

"No. She..."

"And just when I think you can't get any weirder, you ambush me at the lake and start asking for a nude portrait for your girlfriend! What did you think you were doing when you came out and said you were gay--and then accused me of it? I didn't know what the fuck your deal was!"

I opened my mouth, meeting Milo's eyes. There were so many ways to respond to that. But instead, I found myself shaking my head. "Do you know what my deal is now?" I asked him.

He sat back in the chair and studied me for a moment. "Not really," he admitted. "But after you told me... you know, I kinda figured out what you were doing." Milo let out a breath and I watched as a pink tint crawled over his high cheekbones. "I'm not... I don't know about this stuff, okay? Girls come onto me all the time, but I figured you just had a mental handicap or something. I mean, you just didn't quit."

"Yeah, I figured you'd take a hint," I responded dryly, and then regarded him seriously. "So does it freak you out?"

"Does what freak me out?"

"That I'm attracted to you... interested in you. That, and maybe I like you. I'll drop the maybe if you stop being a prick to me. It stopped being cute a while ago. You're still hot, though."

Milo was incredulous. "Are you kidding me?" he demanded.

"Well, it's not like I was trying to get your attention because you won me over with your charming personality," I remarked. "Not that I think you don't have one... you just need to, maybe, work on it."

Milo once again raised a sharp, dark eyebrow. "Are you always so blunt?"

"Blunt?" I scoffed. "I've been beating around the bush ever since I met you." I lifted a hand to tug on the stud in my left ear for a moment, and let out a breath. "Milo, when you're not acting like you hate my guts, there's... something there. I like you, and we're both gay, so maybe you and me could..."